cover of first edtion |
Have you ever felt that you were an “as if “ personality
living a narrative you’d read in a book or seen in a movie. Identification
is the whole point of classics like The
Catcher in the Rye and what’s astonishing is the variegated personalities
that are capable of seeing themselves in the story, people who have perhaps
never even been to Manhattan and have never heard about the clock in the
Biltmore and any of extinct milieu that Salinger alludes to in the book. Great
art seems to cut a large swath in which people can find room for their
condition. So many people see themselves in Chekhov and identify with the
longings of say his Three Sisters,
Masha, Irina, and Olga that one wonders if the playwright wasn’t at times
bothered by the fact that people seemed to have expropriated his creation, paying
little credence to the fact that it was his not theirs. One might not say the
same thing about Titus Andronicus.
Few people identify with serving someone’s children to them at dinner, but
isn’t there a little bit of Anna Karenina
and War and Peace in everyone. Flaubert famously
said, “Madame Bovary, c’est moi.” But he might more accurately have said to
many of his readers “Madame Bovary, c’est vous!” to the extent that a
good portion of the books following comes from romantics who see themselves in the plight of its anti-heroine. When Brecht
created the idea of the Verfremdungseffek
or “estrangement effect,” he was attempting to give his audiences back their
own reality rather than sweeping them up into an Aristotelian
catharsis. The fact is, however, that a good many people who read books do so
because they want, if only for a short period of time, to be someone or be somewhere
else.
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